The Girl Who Left the Sea
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Adam returns to Boston to sell his grandfather's house but is pulled into a fantastical adventure that will change his life. Rated T for now...not sure what is to come. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Chapter 1

The Girl Who Left the Sea

The trek to the beach had been tortuous and rocky but Adam Cartwright now stood on the Boston shoreline and looked out at the gray water, the demarcation between sky and ocean almost indiscernible. The fog was slowly rolling in and would soon blanket the whole area by the time darkness fell within the next hour. The wind was cruel and tugged at his pea coat, the uniform of almost every European and English-speaking sailor in Christendom. Adam found that his suede jacket wasn't up to protecting him from the damp cold that settled deep into a man's bones and only the watch cap he wore kept his head warm; his Stetson would have already been knocked from his head.

Adam had hoped, when he had arrived at the home of his grandfather's and his mother's that he would feel some identification, that when he visited the harbor, he would feel at home but it hadn't been that way; he felt a stranger in the house that had been empty for years and felt a yearning more for the Sierra-Nevada mountain range and the blue Tahoe water than this rough, tumultuous, vast body of water that stretched out before him.

"Oh, so you're Abel Stoddard's grandson," Mr. Garrison, the banker, had said as he rose to greet Adam. Garrison took note of the large man's western wear and how alien he would look in the New England town. They didn't have many people dressed as he was, as a common cowboy.

"Yes. Adam Cartwright." The two men shook hands.

"I knew your grandfather. Well, my father did as they were both mariners. He had a healthy respect for Captain Stoddard, let me tell you. Please, sit, Mr. Cartwright." Mr. Garrison motioned to the chair opposite him and Adam sat, putting his Stetson on the desk between them. "Oh, first, here are the keys to your grandfather's house—your house actually." Garrison opened a desk drawer and placed the keys in front of Adam. He picked up the two keys and looked at them, weighing their heft in his hands. They looked like just ordinary iron house keys but they might unlock parts of the past he never really knew. "No one has been in the house for ages—at least fifteen years since your grandfather died. He was quite the long-lived man but I hired a woman a few weeks ago with some of the money from the estate as I am the conservator, to clean the place in anticipation of your arrival but you may still find it musty although I told her to air it out, and hopefully, since there's been no food, mouse-free. I would assume though, that you're staying in one of our fine hotels. Boston has come quite a way since the war which is why Braggs & Sons wants the property; our city has become a prime area for businesses."

"Actually, Mr. Garrison, I plan to stay in the house. I stopped at a few shops on my way here and purchased some of the items I felt I would need. They're in my hired buggy outside. So, since I've come a long way and am very tired, may I have the papers to examine at my leisure and any other pertinent information such as the balance of my grandfather's estate—the finances?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Cartwright. You'll see that the only money taken was to pay for the cleaning and a yearly fee for managing the account. Here are copies of all the legal papers—take them with you to read them and decide if the offer is acceptable but I can assure you that it is a grand price—very generous. You can come out of this a wealthy man." Mr. Garrison slid the papers in a folder and closed the flap.

"Yes, well…" Adam stood up. "That's not my intent. I just want to salvage whatever there is of my heritage."

Mr. Garrison stood up and offered his hand. "I understand." The two men shook hands and Mr. Garrison came around his desk and walked Adam to his office door. "How long do you think it will take you to decide?"

"I've already decided to sell…it's just the price and how soon. I am planning to spend at least a month here; I've traveled such a long way it would be wasteful to leave quickly. I also think I may pay a visit to my alma mater while I'm in the area."

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with combining business and pleasure," Mr. Garrison said but he didn't seem too pleased that Adam wanted to spend time in the house; he was functioning as representative not just for the bank and its share of the sale but as a go-between for their largest depositor, Braggs & Sons. Nevertheless, he wished Adam well and said that he hoped to see him within a short time so that the papers could all be signed and the matter efficiently declared completed to everyone's satisfaction.

Adam quickly left and went back to his rented buggy. He had asked directions at the train depot and headed in the direction of the street and quickly found his grandfather's house…and his mother's. He pulled up the horse and walked to the front door. The doorknocker was a brass anchor and just to hear it, Adam swung the knocker twice on the light-blue painted wood, hearing the solid sound reverberate. He pulled out the house key and turned it in the lock and the door gave way. Adam stepped inside.

He looked around. The inside was small yet cozy. The fireplace was clean and the andirons polished, the grate as well. He walked over to the wood box and found it was full. He reached for a split log and a spider crawled up onto his hand and he quickly dropped the wood and brushed off the spider. Then he admonished himself for reacting that way. It was just a spider after all.

Once Adam had the fire going, having found matches in a cup on a small table, he brought in his groceries and his carpet bag and the new, wool clothing he had purchased, still wrapped in brown paper and string. Nevada could be cold, very cold, but there was something about the dampness of this north-eastern cold that made him shiver deep within his bones and he didn't like it. Nevertheless, once he had given a boy on the street two nickels to return the pony and buggy to the livery, Adam lit the stove in the kitchen and fixed himself a thick slice of brown bread and butter, savoring the slightly sweet taste of molasses in the dough and a full pot of hot coffee. He would explore the house later, almost enjoying the anticipation of what he might find but now, he wanted to see where the house was situated.

After he ate, Adam changed into his pea coat and watch cap and went out the back door. The house fronted a busy street, always bustling, but behind the house was a brief stretch of land and then a treacherous drop to the Atlantic Ocean, the way down full of boulders and patches of sea grass and gnarled roots of wind-bent trees.

Adam looked out at the vista, his mind wandering as to what it would be like to sail those seas as his father and grandfather had and then he walked a way along the beach. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, some movement on a group of boulders, rougher and more angular than the smooth rounded ones along Lake Tahoe. He glanced and saw that it was a small pod of seals moving off the rocks and toward the water. He watched their awkward, rocking motion and they crossed the beach to reenter the water where their clumsiness turned into a natural grace as they sinuously moved out through the waves.

Adam smiled; he had often seen harbor seals in San Francisco and these were no different. On one occasion Adam was hiring a ship to take Ponderosa lumber to Georgia for post-war reconstruction and he heard a rifle shot which made him jerk his head in its direction. Off in the distance, he saw one of a group of sailors shooting seals for sport. The animals were so awkward on land that the man had picked off at least six or seven before the colony reached the safety of the sea.

Adam began to protest that seals were benign creatures but instead continued with his conversation; his opinion would make no difference and would instead, make him look foolish to the rough captain. He glanced over again and three of the sailors, the one who had handled the rifle and two others, slammed the injured seals with a heavy club if they were still alive and then the rest of them began to skin the animals.

"When they're finished skinning the seals," Adam asked the captain, "do they eat the flesh?"

"No. they roll the carcass into the water or leave then for crabs but seal fur brings quite a good price—exceptionally soft and warm. They're useless creatures anyway, made for prey either by man or the sharks at sea."

Adam couldn't argue as he and his father, in their early days when they were building up their ranch, trapped beavers, rabbits and coyotes and sold their hides. Adam had quickly become adept with a skinning knife, rarely cutting himself and soon learned which small incisions allowed an animal skin to be ripped off easily and quickly. The money had helped them through the winter but there was something about killing seals that was upsetting to him. Adam decided it was because they looked a bit human, like an innocent child, and that's why their slaughter made him uncomfortable.

But he enjoyed watching these seals reach the sanctuary of the Atlantic waves without molestation. Once the last seal had reentered the water soon to come ashore elsewhere for the night, he looked back and saw a dark object on the rocks. Adam walked over, having to use his hands at times to help him up the grouping of rocks. He saw it was a sealskin. Some hunter must have left it, perhaps rejected it as inferior but when Adam picked it up, he couldn't see a flaw. And he was amazed at the softness of the fur, running his hands through the nap. It was grey in color with a few dark, mottled spots and although it was still damp, he threw it over his arm and worked his way back up to the higher land and carrying the fur, went back to his grandfather's house with only a short time left before darkness fell.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam had draped the fur over a Windsor chair from the dining area and placed it near the fire to completely dry. He was fascinated by it and would repeatedly run his hands through the plush nap, even picking it up and burying his face in it, enjoying the sensuality of the fur. He had made himself a sparse meal of scrambled eggs and bread as he wasn't particularly hungry and as he sat in a crewel chair staring into the fire and resisting the urge to wrap himself in the sealskin, there was a knock on the door. Adam put down his coffee cup and although he had taken off his gun belt and placed it on the drop-front desk in an alcove by the front door, he went to it and slid his gun out of the holster—old habits die hard and he was still wary of visitors after dark-and holding the gun next to his thigh, he opened the front door. A man of about his father's age and leaning on a brass-topped cane stood on the narrow front walkway, wrapped warmly against the cold night.

The man stared agape for a few beats and then spoke, almost in awe. "You must be Lizzie's boy. You have her coloring."

Adam stood silent for a moment, weighing the situation—the time of the evening and his own weariness and the look of the stranger. The man looked harmless, even a bit frail, but Adam still gripped his gun.

"Yes, I'm Adam Cartwright. Elizabeth Stoddard was my mother. You have the advantage."

"Oh, of course." The man smiled. "Please excuse me-I'm Ian Clancy, an old friend of your mother's. Your grandfather's—not so much." The man grinned warmly. "I had heard from Jack Garrison at the bank that you were coming to Boston to see to the sale of the house and then, while on my nightly constitution, well, I saw the lights on…I'm just a nosy old man so I had to stop by and see if it was you, Elizabeth's boy."

Adam waited but it didn't seem that Mr. Clancy was going to leave. "Would you care to come in, Mr. Clancy?"

"Why thank you. Yes, yes I would." Adam stepped aside and the man walked in, using his cane for assistance. He turned and looked to Adam and waited.

Adam realized that the man was too polite to go any further without more of an invitation. "Please, won't you sit down? May I take your coat and hat?"

"Why, thank you, thank you." Ian Clancy handed Adam his homburg and then turned so Adam could help him with his coat. Then, smiling wanly, Clancy walked to the crewel wingback chair closest to the fireplace.

"I was just having some coffee? May I offer you some?" Adam placed his gun back in its holster on the desk.

"Why yes, yes. A touch of coffee might help warm my insides. Thank you."

Adam went to fetch a cup of coffee for Mr. Clancy. When he returned, the man was running his hands over the fabric, fingering the raised stitches.

"This was Lizzie's-Elizabeth's favorite chair. When you grandfather was away at sea, I would pull up the other chair—that green one over there, and your mother would get a pot of tea going on that small stove there on the hearth and she would work on her darning or knitting and we would talk—just talk." He looked up at Adam to take the proffered coffee. "Thank you, young man. What did you say your name was again?"

"Adam."

"Ah, yes, Adam. I'll remember that because Elizabeth liked Milton's poem, _Paradise Lost._ We often discussed the problem of evil in the world, free will and such. Your mother was a highly intelligent woman—highly intelligent. She should have been sent away to school to learn things beyond this harbor town but she was all your father had. She was sharp and quick of mind but also so stubborn." Mr. Clancy laughed. "Her head was as hard as those boulders along the beach but she was beautiful—so beautiful that I could forgive her anything, even her marrying another man."

Adam sat forward sipping his coffee and watching the old man who seemed to have reverted to some inner reverie. And then Ian Clancy's eyes focused on the fur.

"What is that?" Mr. Clancy rose and placing his cup and saucer on a nearby table, walked over to the deep grey fur. He ran his hand over it. "A sealskin. So soft, so soft."

Adam stood as well and went over to the fur; he felt a jealous possessiveness and wanted the man to leave it be, to take his hands off it "Yes. I found it on the rocks this afternoon as I was walking. I figured a hunter must have left it behind so I took it. It's clean—no raw flesh. Odd, isn't it?" Adam ran his hand over the fur. Now that it was dry, the fur was even softer—softer than anything he had ever felt and more lush.

Ian Clancy spoke more to the fur than to Adam as he put aside his cane and ran both his hands through the pelt. "My grandfather from the old country used to tell me stories of seal-faeries, of the Roane. Foolish stories to fill a small boy's head with fantasies. You see, my boy, there is the legend of the faery-woman…"

"Mr. Clancy," Adam said, "it's been a long day for me. You said that you knew my mother. My father has told me much about her but if you could tell me things, well, I always wanted to know more about…well, small things about her and it appears that you knew her far longer than my father did." Adam paused and then went ahead with what he wanted to say. "It sounds as if you loved her."


	3. Chapter 3

Ian Clancy smiled, more to himself than to Adam and picked up his cane again and went slowly back to the chair. He picked up his cup and saucer and sipped while Adam pulled his chair closer. Finally, Ian Clancy sighed and began to talk again. "Ever since I was a young boy, I loved Lizzie. You may not want to hear of another man loving your mother but indulge me; I am an old man and sitting here brings her back to me in a manner. This house seems to whisper of something—of a presence, a woman's presence but not your mother's. I think it's for you—not for me. I lost my Lizzie long ago, long ago…."

Adam remained patient although he wanted to shake the man and bring him back to the present. Ian Clancy seemed so much older than his own father, so much more out of touch with reality, lost in memories and dreams of an unfulfilled love. His father was obviously right; hard work kept a man young.

"How did you meet my mother?" Adam asked, prompting Clancy.

"Oh, yes. We were childhood playmates; your mother was a hoyden and could outrun and out-jump anyone else. We would race along the beach in our bare feet and collect seas shells. I would drill small holes in them with an awl I purloined from the blacksmith with your mother's help, of course, and Lizzie would string them. We would wear them around our necks—we would run shirtless, she and I when we were mere children in the summer heat—and wear string after string of the shells, but not when your grandfather was around; he claimed they made us look like pagans from some South Sea Island and ripped them from my neck. Lizzie took hers off and handed them to her mother to supposedly throw away. But she didn't and when we were free of your grandfathers' disapproval, when he was gone to sea again, your grandmother gave them back—she always put them away-and Lizzie gave me half of hers but we soon made more strings of beautiful shell after shell."

Adam chuckled. He was forming a more complete image of his mother; his father had often said that she had the innocence of a child and was playful and quick to laugh.

"And we were school mates, best friends and I loved her dearly. Things were easy before her mother-your grandmother died. She liked me, would invite me for dinner—the Captain was gone for such long stretches that things could actually be pleasant for me. Once your grandmother died, Elizabeth had to take care of the old man. I know he was your grandfather and that you loved him—Elizabeth did as well—but Abel Stoddard disapproved of me as a suitor for his daughter. I wasn't a man of the sea, didn't care to be a mariner so as far as your grandfather was concerned, I wasn't the right type of man, hardly a man at all. But enough of that."

Clancy stared into the fire for a minute or two—the silence weighing on Adam. Then he turned again to Adam. "Cold for February, isn't it? It's the chill, boy, which makes my body ache so, this damnable heavy cold. It bites into my bones and gives me grief, misery and makes it hard to move about." Clancy drank more of his coffee. "I tell you what. I'm an old bachelor—never married. Never loved another woman as much as my Lizzie. Come for dinner some night, Adam, and I'll tell you about your mother once she grew into a young beauty. I wasn't the only one who loved her, you know." Clancy chuckled. "But as a child, I was her best friend. She was quite the little daredevil, she was. Challenged me to jump from boulder to boulder on the beach and I had to accept—had to or face her contempt and let me tell you, son, you didn't want Lizzie's contempt." He chuckled again. "She jumped lightly from rock to rock and with my heart in my throat, I followed and ended up with all the flesh deeply ripped off the front of my shin as my legs slipped between two close boulders."

"Oh," Adam said. "I suppose she was sorry then—about the challenge."

"Sorry?" He sipped his coffee again and then chuckled. "I'll say not. My Lizzie said that once I was better, we would have to do it again. But it was worth a torn shin as she came to see me every day and would sit by my bed and read to me or play checkers—which she always won. Lizzie was a strategist; she would have made a fine man but she was a perfect woman. Perfect." Clancy stared into the fire again and after a few seconds, Adam interrupted his memories.

Adam stood up indicating that the visit was over. "I would be pleased to join you for dinner some evening as you mentioned. I plan to stay about two weeks. If you have an evening you would prefer, I'll be there. But I would rather take you out to dinner as my guest."

"Dinner out? Oh, you don't have to do that, young man."

Adam realized that Mr. Clancy had forgotten his name again.

"I would be pleased to. How about the Harbor House, um…Thursday night. 8:00 in the evening or is that too late?"

"Thursday…Thursday. Two nights from tonight, isn't it? Yes. 7:00 is more to my liking if it causes no hardship."

"7:00 it is then. Ask for me, Adam Cartwright." Adam wondered if Ian Clancy would even remember the invitation so much as his name.

Clancy rose slowly from his chair and Adam, holding the old man's elbow, handed him his brass-topped cane. They walked to the door but when Adam opened it, Clancy turned to him as if he remembered something important.

"Are you married, boy?"

"No."

"Do you care to be? Do you desire a wife? A good wife who will dedicate her body to you and subjugate all her desires but one to your will?"

Adam chuckled at the odd question. "I honestly haven given it much thought. Why? Don't tell me you have a niece or such you want to marry off." It wouldn't surprise Adam if this visit was just a ploy by a conniving old man to marry off a female relative—more than likely homely and dull.

"No, no, nothing like that." Ian Clancy pointed with his cane to the pelt. "The sealskin—lock it away."

"What? Why should I do that? I don't think anyone will come in and steal it."

Clancy looked Adam in the eye and Adam felt a sense of immediacy. "Then what are your plans for it?"

Adam became suspicious. "Do you want it? Is that why you're asking?"

"Me? No. I'm too old for a wife like what I described but you're in your prime—not a boy and not yet old. You could enjoy a woman like that. Would that I could have entrapped my Lizzie as easily as a man could entrap a Roane."

Adam decided Ian Clancy was senile and that all the talk of his mother had caused old ideas and memories to grasp the old man's mind. But because he was old and because he had been a friend of his mother's—if he was to be believed-Adam decided to indulge him. "Yes, well, I'll probably take it back west with me. I don't think anyone in my family has ever felt one except perhaps my father." Adam said, taking Clancy by the arm and walking him outside. The street was still busy as it had become one of the main thoroughfares of the city that was headed to become a major city in the state of Massachusetts. "Now, we'll meet this Thursday at 7:00, agreed?" He put out his hand to Clancy.

"Yes, The Harbor House. I'll be there. But listen to me, son, lock up the fur. Lock it away and hide the key where no one can find it but you. Promise me you will and you'll be a fulfilled man." Ian Clancy stood determinedly on the narrow front steps.

"All right, I will," Adam said. It was no problem to indulge the old man in his eccentricities.

"Promise. Swear it."

Adam gave a derisive chuckle. It was all ridiculous. "All right, I swear that I will go in the house and lock it away in a sea trunk I saw upstairs." Adam had earlier gone from room to room and lit a fire in his mother's bedroom where he planned to sleep. It was while he was in what must have been in his estimation, his grandfather's bedroom, that he saw an old, noble, sea chest in one of the rooms, the key still in the lock. He had unbuckled the straps and unlocked it and inside were some uniforms and mariner caps. Adam assumed they had been his grandfather's and closed the trunk again.

The men shook hands and after Clancy left, Adam bolted the front door against the night and went back to the wingback chair. He had pulled a book about whaling off a shelf and had planned to read but he found himself too tired to do so, his eyes heavy. He put out the lamps and took to the stairs but glanced over at the sealskin, its fur glossy in the light thrown up by the dying flames. He remembered what Clancy had said.

"Crazy," Adam mumbled to himself but went back and scooped up the fur, took it upstairs and locked it in the sea trunk, taking the key with him. _Hide the key where no one can find it but you. _Adam felt foolish but there was something about the urgency in Clancy's voice that propelled him to hide the key. He reached up to the top of the mahogany highboy in the bedroom and place the key behind the decorative, molded cornice. And yet Adam felt uneasy. He had always been rational—shunned superstition as childish and this action of his was foolish—but yet he left the key there and walked out of the room and closed the heavy door behind him with finality.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a sound—Adam was certain and he sat up and strained to listen. He remembered bolting the front door after Ian Clancy had left but wasn't sure if he had the kitchen door that lead out to the beach and the ocean. Adam reached for his gun but remembered that he had left it on the desk by the front door. Then he heard another sound—someone was in the house.

Adam pushed off the warm down coverlet. The cold air was a slight shock after having been so warm. He pulled on his trousers he had thrown on a nearby chair. The embers were still red in the fireplace but gave little light so being careful not to make any noise in the unfamiliar room, Adam reached for a split log from the firebox on the brick hearth, hoping that no spider was hiding inside. Holding the log like a club and ready to split the skull of the intruder if need be, he opened the door and stood. The sounds were louder out in the hall—as if someone was searching for something and they were coming from the parlor. Adam briefly considered that Ian Clancy had returned to look for a memento of Elizabeth but then, why would Clancy do it tonight after all the time the house had been empty? Adam slowly descended the stairs, carefully feeling his way with his bare feet, and once he was at the bottom, he glanced around and saw movement to his right. The desk with his gun was still a distance from him and he crept silently to it. Adam placed the log on the desk and pulled the gun from its holster. Adam could see an almost indiscernible form moving about and he called out, "Hold it right there. Don't make another move or it'll be your last." Adam picked up the log again. He would rather strike someone with it than shoot someone.

In the darkness with the only light coming from the front window, he saw what looked to be a human form crouching against the wall; its skin glistened palely in the moonlight, white as a pearl. Adam made his way to a lamp, the one with the cup of matches beside it. He hesitantly placed his gun on the table top along with the log and lit the lamp. He raised the wick and heard a muffled cry as of terror at the sudden light and exposure. He grabbed up the heavy stick of wood and his gun and approached the person.

He raised the club, ready to strike and then sucked in his breath. "What the hell?" A young woman was crouching against the wall, pressing herself against it and she was naked. Only her long, wavy black hair fell over her white shoulders and to her waist as cover. She was shivering and had curled herself up to be as small as possible.

Adam recovered himself and considered what to do. The woman or girl, he couldn't be certain of her years, looked up at him with fear in her large, dark eyes. There was an afghan on the settee, more than likely knitted by his grandmother from its state of wear but it would suffice. He stepped back, placed his gun on the table, and grabbed the afghan with one hand and then approaching her again, he kneeled down in front of her. Adam noticed that she was staring with fear not so much at him but at the heavy piece of wood in his hand. Suddenly his mind went back to the image of the sailors in San Francisco smashing the seals' heads with wooden clubs. He placed it on the floor and pushed it away. The woman, a young thing, he decided, looked at him with gratitude. "Here," he said, placing the afghan around her shoulders. "You must be freezing. Let me start the fire."

She sat and said nothing, just watched him as he moved about the room and pulled the afghan closer about herself. Adam noticed that her eyes were dark, much darker than his own father's deep-brown eyes—almost a liquid black-and full of wonder. He glanced at her while he put fresh logs and a few pieces of fat lighter on the grate and lit it. The flames began and the fire was soon casting dancing shadows about the room.

Adam crouched down beside the woman again and she shrunk away. He decided she must be in her early twenties, her skin pale and dewy but it was her eyes that held him.

"My name is Adam, Adam Cartwright." She pressed herself against the wall as he put out his hand. "I won't hurt you. What happened to you—your clothes and such? Did someone hurt you? Attack you? Do you need a doctor?"

He waited but she said nothing. "What's your name?" he asked. She stayed silent. "You must have a name." Adam considered that she might have escaped from a mental institution but he could think of none close by. In the morning, he would take her to the constable; someone would have noticed she was gone, that such an enchanting young woman was missing. Her husband, her family, her friends or the authorities-someone had to be searching for her. "You can sleep here tonight. You'll be safe and warm." He thought of the clothing still in his mother's bureau; his grandfather had left all his daughter's possessions alone and Adam had noticed that the room still looked as if a young woman lived there; Abel Stoddard had disposed of nothing of his daughter's. Adam had felt a bit foolish sleeping in such a room but it made him feel closer to his mother somehow. "I'll bring you something warm to wear—and there's a bed upstairs you can sleep in. Just wait for me. Don't leave—just wait here."

Adam bounded up the stairs. He lit the lamp in the bedroom and pulled open the drawer until he found a night gown. It was of soft flannel covered in small roses and smelled slightly of the floral sachets placed in the cedar-lined drawers. It made Adam smile. There were roses on the wallpaper of the bedroom and on the parlor and foyer walls. Adam's father had told him that there were always fresh flowers in the Stoddard house brought in by Elizabeth and that he and Adam's mother often talked of the rose bushes they would plant around the house when they finally settled out west. The climbing rose tree that adorned the front porch of the Ponderosa had been planted in her memory. "Your mother would have loved to see it, Adam," Ben had told him one day when the tree was blooming and the red of the blooms brought a sense of celebration to the place.

Adam took the gown downstairs and the woman was still huddling against the wall. "Here," he said, holding out the nightgown. "Go ahead," he said, moving closer. "You'll be warmer." She only stared at him. Adam wondered if she spoke English but even if she didn't, it should be obvious that the gown was for her. He unbuttoned the top few buttons and then held it over her head. She ducked down but Adam put the gown over her head and then gently reached out and pulled her hair out of the gown. It fell about her shoulders and Adam touched it again lifting a heavy lock in his hand. It was softer than anyone's hair he had ever felt. The woman did nothing else to help herself put on the gown.

"Stand up," Adam said. "It'll be easier to dress." He reached for her arm and she slightly resisted but allowed him to raise her to her feet, the gown looped about her neck. Adam averted his eyes although he wanted to look more at her rounded body, at her firm breasts and smooth belly and legs. He helped her slip her arms through the sleeves and then after the gown fell down almost to the floor, he buttoned it up while she stood like an obedient child. "Let me take you upstairs. I'll put you in a bed—in my mother's room—and bring you some warm milk. All right?"

She seemed less afraid of him but she still hadn't said a word. Adam decided he wouldn't expect her to talk; perhaps she couldn't. Tentatively placing a guiding hand on the small of her back, he led the young woman upstairs. _She has the scent of the ocean about her—clean and exciting—challenging a man to something. _ The woman turned her head to look up at him and again, Adam was stunned by the beauty of her eyes, their depth and sadness and by the loveliness of her face. In a manner, she looked like a child; she had that innocence about her but he had to resist the urge to grab her and hungrily press his mouth on hers.

Once they were in the room, Adam led her to the bed and when she lay down, looking trustingly up at him, he tucked the coverlet around her. "I'll stir up the fire and it'll be warmer soon. Stay in bed and I'll go heat up some milk. I'll bring it up." Adam reluctantly left her, worried she would leave and he found that he wanted her to stay—he couldn't understand why-and hurried to the kitchen to heat some of the milk he had bought. He pulled a copper pot off a hook and poured enough milk in it to fill one of the thick-walled white mugs in the cupboard. As the milk heated, Adam would spin it in the pan to keep it from scalding and then placed it back on the fired-up stove.

_I would hear if she left but I need to hurry. She could go up to the widow's walk. If she finds the stairs up, she might leap off the roof. She's been through some type of trauma and I need to get her to a doctor and talk to the law. Someone has taken her clothes from her and left her exposed on a brutal night like this—some cruel, cold-hearted bastard. Whoever it was wanted her and maybe she ran to escape being violated—or she was and then thrown aside. But no man could leave her, especially after tasting her—no man could be that invulnerable to her beauty—or her body._

Adam paused in pouring the milk into the mug, sitting the pan back on the stove. He realized his hand was slightly shaking and his breath was labored; he knew he desired the woman upstairs. Adam took a deep breath and finished pouring the milk. He was a better man that that, stronger than to give in to base desires. She would be safe with him…she would be safe.


	5. Chapter 5

Adam couldn't sleep although he was bone-weary and his eyes were heavy—all he could think of was the woman in the room across the hall. He lay in his grandfather's large bed after pulling blankets, sheets and a pillow out of the top of the wardrobe. Adam didn't understand why he felt compelled to make up the bed properly. After all, he had slept many a night on a bedroll spread out on the hard ground, his horse's saddle as pillow but then, maybe that was the reason, he decided. No uncomfortable night if he could do otherwise. He made a fire in the fireplace, having to go downstairs for wood and matches. Adam didn't care much for the room—too stern but then his grandfather had been stern as well, from what he had heard from his father and only having met the man once, Adam was in no position to dispute the matter. On the walls were two paintings of clipper ships similar to the painting over the mantel in the parlor. There were mementoes of a life at sea on the mantle, a spyglass and other accoutrements a ship's captain might gather.

Adam sighed as he adjusted his position in the bed. Sukie. That was what she had said her name was, at least that's what it had sounded like to Adam when he last asked her. He had sat on the edge of the bed while she sat up and sipped the warm milk. "What is your name?" he had asked her. She had stared at him with those luminous eyes and he felt his desire for her rise. "You must have a name? Something people call you?" Then she had replied in almost inaudibly but Adam thought he heard her. "Sukie? Is that your name? Sukie?"

Sukie had stared at him and then replied in a soft voice, "That will be my name."

So Adam left her after she finished her milk and slid back under the down coverlet. "I'll be across the hall if you need anything," he said but she had only turned her face away from him and closed her eyes.

And now his body burned for her. The more he thought of Sukie, how she had looked when she had stood before him as he slipped the nightgown over her, he would groan with unfulfilled desire—but it wasn't just physical. Ian Clancy had been right—the house whispered of a woman's presence—whispered to Adam of a wife, someone to join with and keep him from being lonely for lonely he was. He rarely acknowledged the depth of his emptiness to himself. Adam often longed for a woman to share his life, not just his bed. He wanted a woman to hold and to whisper to in the dark, someone to halve his misery and to rejoice in his happiness and lying in the bed he could almost feel vibrations of possibility. It was Sukie who had brought hope to him—somehow. _You're tired, boy. Sleep and quit thinking about her. Sleep._

Adam finally drifted asleep while images of Sukie burned in his memory. He woke to cool hands running over his chest. Adam thought he was dreaming at first but then he opened his eyes and Sukie was leaning over him in the moonlight.

"What…Sukie, what are you doing here?" He sat up and she shifted her position and then he noticed that all she wore was her bare skin; the nightgown had been shed.

"I am yours. I will be your wife since you have done as many others have done before to my race—ages before. I will stay with you and take care of you and bear your children as I have no choice; you stole my old life. My life is not my own; I am yours to do with as you please, to use as you will and I will never part from you as long as…until I can find..."

Adam was barely breathing, his voice low in his throat. "Find what?"

"My way back." Sukie then kissed him and Adam grasped her and pulled her closer into a violent embrace. He was overwhelmed with a passion he had never felt before, a desire that he thought would never be fulfilled no matter how many times he took this woman whose existence reverberated in the very air he breathed.

"Oh, Sukie," he whispered as she straddled him, leaning over him. Her dark hair fell about his face and it seemed as if only the two of them existed in space and time beneath the curtain of her dark, scented hair. And he knew such delights that Adam could not imagine any other existence before her, before Sukie.

Adam woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. He sat up and wondered if he had dreamt the happenings of the previous night; it now seemed unreal. But he could still smell Sukie on his skin—that fresh, crisp yet seductive odor- and the taste of her remained in his mouth, sweet, like honey. He realized that his clothes except for the trousers he had slipped on when he had awakened, were still in his mother's room so he walked barefoot over to the large highboy and opened the wardrobe doors after pulling on his pants. The night before when he had pulled out the blankets and such from the top shelf, he had noticed the folded sweaters and shirts along with some trousers. He chose a dark blue wool sweater which he pulled on. It had one small moth hole but it fit surprisingly well and carried the pleasant odor of cedar just as the nightgown Sukie had worn had smelled of roses. The nightgown she had worn was still lying crumpled on the floor by the bed and Adam bent down to pick it up. He then went over to the other bedroom and after draping the nightgown at the end of the bed, he found his boots which he quickly pulled on before he headed downstairs. He hadn't been able to find his shirt.

The fire was roaring in the parlor grate, making the room warm and friendly as the sun poured in from the windows-a far different day than yesterday. Adam walked into the kitchen and Sukie, wearing his shirt that was far too large for her, her bare legs showing below, was cooking thick strips of bacon in a frying pan, the meat popping. She turned when he stepped in and smiled and then Adam knew last night had been no dream. She came over to him, smiling at their shared secret and raised her arms, waiting. He responded in the only way he could. Adam pulled her to him and her arms went about his neck and she raised her face to him. He kissed her with a desperation that suddenly overwhelmed him. His lips pressed on hers as if he was taking his life's sustenance from her the way he had last night.

Their repeated couplings during the night was an experience he had never known; the two of them had seemed to be raised and rocked as if by the waves of the ocean but Adam, in the light of the morning, passed it off as his watching the rhythm of the waves the day before, their rise and fall, their cresting at the top and then the falling, the falling into calmness until another wave—just as his passions would—would rise again until it reached its pinnacle and crashed.

"Sukie," he barely managed to get out, "you need to dress." He reached up and pulled her hands from around his neck but then ran one hand through her thick, black hair. "There's a wardrobe in your bedroom; choose anything you care to wear—any of the dresses. A few should fit. There are shoes, some high top boots lined up at the bottom. See if they'll fit. And your hair." Adam grabbed a fistful of the dark waves and brought it to his nose—the smell intoxicated him.

"Why?" she asked.

"I need to take you to the law…to ask questions, not of you, of them. You are obviously missing and someone—well, the way you showed up here last night without clothes…something is wrong and someone, hopefully family may be looking for you. I need to find where you belong."

"I belong here. My life is now here with you as you own me. My family searches the shore for me but I am yours; they understand."

"Sukie, I'm not sure what you mean." Adam had to admit that Sukie talked nonsense—at least so it seemed to him but she was a human and had fears and he wanted to resolve them. "I don't own you. No one owns you."

She became upset and pulled away from him. "I had been told it might happen, that if I left the sea, left the safety of my kind that a man might…but those before me, many found their way back…but some…" She looked at Adam and again he was lost in her dark eyes—eyes he had seen before but couldn't place.

Adam listened to her, watched her face. Perhaps she had escaped from a home for the insane; if so, he knew she needed to be returned but he didn't want to let her go. But since she thought she was his, believed that he owned her, he would use that authority.

"Sukie, do as I ask. After we eat, you must dress and put up your hair as other women do. Only girls wear their hair down." Adam again realized that he had no idea how old Sukie was; she could pass as a girl of 17 or 18. Her skin was pale, her body the cream and pink of the colors of the inside of the large roseate conch shell in the parlor and her face lineless, her mouth almost too red and her lashes long and dark. She still had the softness of youth about her face but after last night, Adam knew she was a woman and a practiced one at that. There was no telling spot on the sheets in the morning; all she had left behind on the linens was her honeyed scent that filled his head.

"I told you that I'll be your wife, keep your house, bear your children-as many as you can give me-until I can find my way back—if I can." She approached him again, softly and slowly, turning her face up to him, her mouth open slightly and the sweet scent of her drew him in and neither cared that the bacon burned unattended while they pleased each other.


	6. Chapter 6

"I tell you, Mr. Cartwright, no one has reported a woman missing—no one and especially not one that fits….her…description." The constable looked at the young woman sitting beside the dark-haired man who protectively held her hand in his. She had a windblown look about her, as if she had been tumbled and tousled since small wisps and curls fell about her face. She was wearing a straw hat with a ribbon tied about the brim and a prim dress, buttoned to her neck and covered by a fitted rose-colored boiled-wool jacket and yet, there was a sense of disarray about her that the constable found both intriguing and exciting. And there was something about the way the young woman watched the dark-haired man, always turning her lovely head to look at him-waiting. The constable finally placed where he had seen such an action before; the police force was training dogs, German Shepherds, to accompany some constables in the more squalid areas in Boston and due to their training, the dogs were always watching their trainers, waiting to see what was asked of them and quickly obeying even the slightest command. That was almost what it was like, he decided. The constable considered that the woman named Sukie could be as easily handled by Mr. Cartwright as one of the dogs could by its handler and would just as willingly roll over on her back. He sighed and sat straighter in his chair; he had to stop thinking about her in that way. _I'm a married man. I have a wife and four children. I have to stop and focus on business. _

That morning, Sukie had given Adam a fright. He had sent her to dress after he managed to recover enough after their tryst to toss out the burned bacon and then fry up some bread and serve that. She had decided that it was tasty—tastier than she had expected but she hadn't cared for the coffee. Instead, she drank the last of the milk from the copper pail. Adam knew he would have to buy more food on their way home, especially if she was to stay with him-and he hoped she would.

He had gone with her to choose clothing for the day. It was odd for Adam to look at his mother's clothes hanging from the rod in the wardrobe. She had actually worn them and he touched their various fabrics and pulled one out to show Sukie. She didn't seem to care what he chose so Adam placed it on the bed. "Wear this," he had said. "It looks to be your size—or close enough."

Although the shoes were slightly large for Sukie, they would do. As for underclothes, Adam blushed slightly; he wasn't comfortable handling his mother's delicates and merely pointed them out to Sukie, telling her to wear what she needed. Then Adam had left her to dress while he went to shave, wash up and to dress as well, putting on one of the suits he had brought. There was a bowler in his grandfather's wardrobe and it was a half size too large but fit well enough if he slanted it back a bit. Dressed, Adam knocked on the bedroom door but it opened at his strike revealing nothing but emptiness. When he came down, Sukie wasn't there either. Adam had called out to her, returned upstairs and went from room to room but couldn't find her. He took the stairs two at a time and stepped out into the street, his heart pounding and looked both ways. Although there were many people on the street, he couldn't see Sukie. His heart thumped—the widow's walk. She might be on the widow's walk. Adam rushed back into the house and took the narrow, cramped stairs and that led from the second floor to the cupola. The bolt on the door was still pulled shut; he rationalized that she couldn't be up there but he pulled the bolt and walked out onto the roof anyway. He stood and looked about and then he saw her standing by the rocks on the beach watching a pod of seals sunning themselves—or so it seemed. As he watched, he saw Sukie kneel down and the seals moved closer. Even up on the roof, he could hear them barking as if in greeting. Adam watched for a few seconds longer and then climbed back down, remembering to throw the bolt to the cupola, and then went out the back door. He strode to the edge of the drop to the beach, watching her, and then began the twisted path down to the rocks where Sukie still kneeled. But as he came within view, the seals began to move toward the water and Sukie stood and turned at his approach. The wind was tossing the ends of the ribbon that were wound about the brim of the straw hat and the wind had loosened the small curls that floated about her face.

"Sukie, I was worried. I couldn't find you in the house and…"

"You chased them away. They wanted to escape you."

"What? Oh, the seals." Adam stared at Sukie. There were tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sukie. Please…why aren't they afraid of you, Sukie?" Adam said in a low voice, slowly moving toward her. He half expected her to race to the water to escape him as well. "Have you the ability to charm every living thing and win every creature's heart as you have mine?" Adam stepped closer to her and then, holding her face in his hands, with a thumb, he wiped away a tear that had fallen. "Don't cry, Sukie. I'll take care of you." Adam pulled her to him, caressing her and she softened in his arms. _She would let me have her here on the rocks if I chose._ _She would let me do anything I chose_. Adam realized that he had a responsibility to her and that he had to be careful not to take advantage of her willingness to please him, to submit to him. Then Clancy's words came back to him. _Do you desire a wife? A good wife who will dedicate her body to you and subjugate all her desires but one to your will? _ A small thrill of excitement ran through him. "Come, Sukie. Let's go."

It was a short walk to the Constabulary and Adam smiled at Sukie's fascination with all the bustle around her. Other than men tipping their hats to Sukie and giving her appraising glances, she blended in with all the other people and behaved as they did. Adam knew something wasn't quite right with Sukie—she was like a stranger to the world- but he couldn't decide what it was that made him think it. Nevertheless, he pointed out certain items in shop windows to her and told her that they would stop by the market on the way home for food and that they would also go to the dairy for milk, butter and eggs. He was pleased when Sukie smiled at him and slipped an arm through his as they walked.

But the visit to the Constabulary revealed nothing.

"So you're telling me that no one, no school, no hospital, no husband or parent has reported a missing young woman."

"That's correct. Of course, it's only been one night, hasn't it? And then she doesn't seem to remember her last name…have you taken her to a doctor?" The officer couldn't take his eyes from the Sukie.

"Yes, just one night and no, I haven't yet taken her to a doctor." Adam hadn't revealed to the policeman that Sukie had shown up in the middle of the night naked, that she had climbed into his bed while he slept, woken him and pleased him on her own volition and with no encouragement from him.

"Well, if you like, you can leave her here. We would have to lock her in a cell but I can get a woman, a matron, to tend to her." The constable, ran a finger around the inside of his collar as he watched Sukie who sat primly, her eyes locked on the man's face.

Adam noticed how the middle-aged constable was sweating profusely. "No, I don't think she would do well locked up…she can stay at the house and I'll look after her. But you'll let me know if anyone reports her missing?" Adan stood and reached down for Sukie's hand. She took it and stood as well. "Do you need anything else from me—from us? You have my address."

The constable stood. "No, no, Mr. Cartwright. I have all I need." He spoke to Adam but stared at Sukie. "I promise that I'll disseminate her description to the surrounding towns and areas to see if anyone reported a missing woman."

"If no one does report her missing, is it finders-keepers?" Adam wondered if even a bad joke would distract the constable from Sukie's beauty.

"What? Oh…" The man chuckled and Adam put out his hand and they shook. Then, placing his hand on the small of Sukie's back, Adam ushered her out of the colorless offices and into the sunshine of a beautiful New England day.


	7. Chapter 7

Sukie had first looked puzzled when Adam asked her about the doctor, if she would like to see one. He told her that a doctor might be able to help, but she declined saying she had no need. He gently suggested that it would be best since there seemed to be things she couldn't remember. "Or is it that you don't want to remember? Did something bad happen, Sukie?"

Sukie told him with no emotion in her voice, "I remember my life before you well—I remember everything-the water, the freedom, the mating—everything. I don't need someone to ask me more questions and I wish you would stop as well. I told you that I'll stay with you as I must. Be good to me—that's all I ask and I will be your wife.I will keep your house and bear your children and willingly lay with you."

Adam was now even more puzzled. Sukie was a conundrum that he feared he would never solve but he decided that he would cherish the time he had with her as it might be short. At any time a constable may show up at the blue door of his grandfather's house to collect Sukie and return her to her family or husband. If she had a husband, the "mating" she remembered could be explained. It was an odd word to employ, Adam considered, but it made sense. As for the water and the freedom she talked of, Adam wondered if Sukie had swum away from a ship on which she was being forced to travel. That would make sense to him. It also made sense as the reason to why she wouldn't give her last name—she didn't want to be found by the oppressive man who must have told her that he "owned" her. So Adam let the subject drop and instead he and Sukie strolled down the sunny streets of Boston and stopped by shops wher, with a string bag he purchased, they filled it with foodstuffs that he allowed Sukie to choose with a bit of guidance.

Adam knew Sukie liked milk and cheese and at the dairy she stuck her finger, not having worn gloves, in the butter and then in her mouth. Adam laughed and the dairyman told Adam he had to buy that crock but when Sukie turned her eyes on him and gently smiled, the dairyman allowed that as a bonus, "If it pleases the missus." Adam could have the butter for free since he was also buying milk and cheese. Adam offered to pay but the man declined and even threw in an extra half-dozen eggs. At the fishmonger's, Sukie was excited at the variety of the catch offered and Adam purchased two mackerel. Then he bought bread and when they were back at the house and he had warmed up the rooms and changed back into the blue wool sweater and canvas trousers, they had a lunch of buttered thick-sliced bread and although Adam had convinced Sukie to try coffee again with half of it milk, she still frowned and pushed it away. So he stirred some of the sugar he had also purchased into the mug and then offered it to her again. This time she drank it and then she laughed—and Adam's heart sung to see her happy.

He put the fish in a pan of cold water and placed it on the service porch with a towel over it. That way they would keep in the cold air until dinner. Sukie had followed him out to watch his actions and then walked past him out the back again, and walked across the yard to stop standing at the edge of the drop and looking out at the ocean. The sun was still bright as it was only an hour past noon but the wind carried a slight chill.

Adam came up behind Sukie. "Would you like to walk along the beach?"

"Yes," she answered without looking at him, her eyes still focused on the foamy, rough water. It was nothing like the Pacific Ocean, Adam decided and he much preferred the western coast and the waters off San Francisco the calmer waters of the Gulf which he had seen when in New Orleans.

Adam stretched out his hand and took Sukie's. It was then she looked at him and together they walked down the path, Adam often turning to help her with the footing, and onto the sandy area. "Here," he said, "sit down." She sat on the sand like an obedient child and Adam took off her shoes. She stood and laughed then at the feel of the sand under her feet while Adam sat and pulled off his boots but before he was up on his feet again, Sukie began to lightly run down the stretch. She would turn in a type of dance, holding her arms out, her face turned up to the sky. Adam smiled to see her so happy and free from any burden. He followed her, lightly loping after her. Then he watched as she stopped and unbuttoned the rose-colored jacket and took it off, dropping it on the sand. Adam picked it up as she moved on. Then, as she danced further along the stretch, she unbuttoned the bodice of the dress, stopped to step out of it and left it on the sand where the wind caught it and blew it a distance like a loose sail. Adam saw that Sukie hadn't taken his suggestion for underclothes.

"Sukie!" he called. The discarded dress tumbled in the wind and after a few tries, Adam caught it up. He looked up again and saw Sukie was heading out into the water, fighting her way past the breaking waves, losing her footing and be swallowed by the waves and then standing up again, more determined to go out in the deep. "Sukie!" Adam dropped the clothing and took off after her calling her name. He followed her into the waves. The water was shockingly cold but he strode out after her; he could still feel the floor of the ocean under his feet but the undertow kept trying to pull him down. He managed to come closer to her. He grabbed Sukie's outstretched hand and she tried to go out even further, and pulled her back.

"No," she cried. "They're calling me. See?" He wrapped an arm about her waist and began to pull her back to shore. "Look!" Sukie pointed and Adam looked. He saw seals, a group of them looking in curiously in their direction. "Let me go," Sukie said. "I'll return to you—I promise. Just let me go."

Adam said nothing, just pulled her back towards the shore by holding her next to him with one firm arm as she struggled. Once they were on the land, Adam looked around, his chest heaving with his exertions, but no one else was on the beach, no one else had seen them—a man in soaking clothes and a naked young woman who had collapsed on the sand. Adam saw Sukie's dress caught in some sea grass. He walked a way back to the house and reached down and swept up her discarded clothes. They were both soaking wet and Adam struggled with her, raising her from the sand and forcing her up the rise, over the yard and into the house. He dropped her wet dress on the floor of the service porch and then, leaving her standing in the kitchen shivering, he quickly fetched the afghan and wrapped it about her and then gently pushed her to sit at the small table. They both shivered from the cold and Adam's clothes left puddles on the floor but he first fueled up the kitchen stove and soon it was radiating heat again.

"Sukie," he said, kneeling beside her. "Wait here for me. Don't go back out, just wait here. I have to get out of these wet clothes and then I'll heat up a bath for you." He pushed the wet strands of hair off her face but she seemed not to focus on him. "Sukie, did you hear me?" It was then that she looked at him and nodded. "All right," he said. "I'll be back down."

It took a while for Adam to drag the copper bath tub from a shed in the back and then to wipe it out of acquired dust and dirt, heat the water and then fill the tub. He helped her in as the side of the tub was high and she stood looking at him. "You sit in it, Sukie. It's to bathe, to wash the salt and sand off you." Sukie then sat and Adam, with a cup in his hand and a bar of soap in the other, washed and rinsed her hair and then handed her the bar of soap. "Now you wash yourself and I'll get some towels." And when he returned, Sukie was still sitting in the bathwater holding the bar of soap.

"Well, I guess you're clean enough. Stand up." She did and Adam wrapped a towel around her. He took a second one and began to dry her hair. Then he placed that towel on the sandy floor and she stepped out on it. "Step into these." He placed a pair of his mother's slippers that he had brought down with the towels, embroidered silk mules from some Occidental country, on the floor. Sukie slipped her feet in them. Then Adam held up a kimono that he had found in his mother's wardrobe and taking her towel with one hand, he tossed it on the table and helped her slip on the robe. He heaved a deep sigh. "I swear, Sukie, it's like taking care of a child." But she said nothing to him.

"I'll wash up." Adam stripped and sat in the same water and she watched as he scrubbed up. Adam supposed she was watching the way he utilized the soap and when he raised his arms to wash under them, she laughed but to Adam, it seemed sad, not the trills of delight from earlier.

"What's so funny?"

"Where you have hair. Where I now have hair except like you, on the chest. Such odd places, not really any protection from anything, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," he grinned.

Sukie stood up and put more wood in the fire. "I'll sweep up," she said in a resignedly, "and then I'll fix the dinner. I know about frying fish—I've watched it done before. There have been other times when I…"

"When you what, Sukie?"

"When I was curious." And she went to a broom that was kept on the small back porch and began to sweep out the sand they had brought in.

Adam studied her. Sukie seemed as if she came from a foreign land. He had read Captain James Cook's diaries of his journeys and he had particularly enjoyed the descriptions of Tahiti and Hawaii and their indigenous people. They had found Cook's habits odd, especially the clothing the Englishman wore. Sukie reminded him of one of the Islander's with their immodest dress and behavior. But Sukie was learning and learning quickly, and yet Adam felt that many of her actions were intuitive—she just knew what would please him, both in everyday life and other times as well, and he wondered how she knew.

When she had finished sweeping up the kitchen, Sukie stood with the towel and did for him what he had done for her—wrapped the towel about him and then as he bent his head, she dried his hair.

"Thank you, Sukie." She smiled at him and Adam kissed her. Sukie stepped back and Adam reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips.

"Why do you do that? Kiss my hand like that."

"Because it shows I care for you, I cherish you." He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek and then ran his lips down the side of her neck.

"I suppose all males want the same thing," she said with a sigh. "Come upstairs with me. I am your wife, your mate and I will serve you. You are good to me. I am lucky in that."

Adam was puzzled by her words but that didn't prevent him from going up the stairs with her; that language he understood.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was streaming in the bedroom widow and Adam slowly wakened. He looked over at the pillow next to his. Sukie was gone and he was alone but slowly, as he stretched, his memories of the night he had just passed with Sukie came back and warmed his blood. It was unusual for him to sleep past dawn but Adam felt lazy, wanting to sleep longer but also wanting to join Sukie. He thought about the previous evening after he had pulled Sukie back from the ocean that threatened to pull her into its deepest recesses, to tumble her about and then be swallowed by the maw of the waves.

Sukie had turned out to be an excellent cook. She had deboned the two fish and fried them to crispness in butter. She had also boiled the carrots and mashed them with salt and butter. The potatoes they had purchased, Sukie had peeled and then thinly sliced and added them to the butter in which the fish had been fried and Adam considered the taste not at all "fishy." The thin crisps were delicious. Along with some bread and butter and cup of coffee, Adam considered it a feast. Sukie was a surprise to him in many ways. He smiled as he remembered how she had surprised him through the night and he felt a warmth run thorough his veins as he remembered the feel of her soft mouth and the thrill of her hands. Then he heard a dull crash through the closed door.

He pulled on his clean trousers; the room was chilled but he didn't bother looking for his boots. He threw open the door and listened. The noise had come from his mother's room. He opened the door and saw Sukie trying to place a suitcase back on the top shelf of the highboy but she wasn't tall enough and it slid from her grasp again and fell, thumping heavily on the wood floor.

"Sukie, what are you doing?" She gasped in surprise at his voice and left the suitcase on the floor. Adam looked about the room. Drawers had been emptied and the bedding pulled apart, the mattress partly slid from the bed but it was too unwieldy for her to remove it completely. Sukie didn't answer Adam, just stepped back looking afraid.

Adam noticed she was dressed in a light blue-flowered cotton dress, something that a woman might wear in the spring or summer, not during such cold weather. "What are you doing?" Adam asked evenly. "Why is the room such a mess?"

"I'm…looking for something."

"What? Just what are you looking for? Maybe I can help you. What is it that you're looking for? Warmer clothing? Whatever it is you need or want, just tell me."

"It's nothing. I'll put everything back."

"All right, I'll help you." Adam bent down to pick up a drawer and he slid it back into the bureau.

"No. I'll do it, Adam. Just leave it. I'll do it. Go back to your bed and rest while I start your breakfast. I'll call you when it's ready husband."

Adam grabbed her arm as she tried to get past him. "First, we're not yet married and may never be if you already have a husband. I'm willing to stay here longer than my original plan of two weeks to wait and see if any family comes forth for you. If not, if you're free, then I do want to marry you." He drew her closer. "After that, I'll take you back to the Ponderosa."

She looked fearful. "The Ponderosa?"

"Yes. It's my family's ranch in Nevada."

"Nevada? Where…how far from the water?" Her eyes became even larger.

Adam chuckled. "Which water? The ocean?"

"This water—mine."

Adam looked at her oddly. "If you mean the Atlantic Ocean, close to 3,000 miles away."

Her breathing stepped up and Adam noticed her panicked state.

"That's a long way, isn't it? A long way from the water. Oh, Adam, don't take me away. I won't be able to get back—ever. Not ever."

"Sukie," he said, holding her by the upper arms and trying to soother her. "There's water in Nevada, on the Ponderoa. The most beautiful water you've ever seen. It's so blue that it melts into the color of the sky. It stretches out for miles and is surrounded by trees and snow-capped mountains. And I'll build us a house with a hundred windows on that side so you can look out on the lake any time you want. And we'll take walks by the water and there's a stretch where we can even go out bathing in the lake, that is when it's warm enough."

Sukie wrested her arms away from him. "Don't say anything else about leaving here. I can't…I can't. Not yet." She left the room and Adam could barely hear her light footfalls on the stairs.

Adam went downstairs after her. The parlor was in disarray as well. She had emptied the wood box and cord wood lay scattered on the floor. She had opened all the drawers of the desk and papers were hanging out where Sukie had rifled through them. An engraved wooden chest against the back wall had been half-emptied of its contents—linens and dishes, objects that a young woman might collect for her marriage. He went into the kitchen and Sukie was preparing coffee.

"What were you looking for, Sukie? Tell me." Adam was genuinely puzzled.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, leaning against the counter as if too exhausted to stand on her own. "Things we might need. That's all. Just things you might need. I'll put everything away. As soon as I fix your breakfast."

"I'll go straighten up the parlor," Adam said and Sukie didn't protest. She just went back to the stove and Adam slowly put away all the items that were thrown on the floor. He was worried about what Sukie was searching for and why she had felt it was necessary to lie to him.

All afternoon, Adam stayed around the house although he wanted to go to the bank and tell Mr. Garrison that his plans had changed—that he might be staying longer than two weeks but he hesitated to leave Sukie alone. He tried to convince himself that Sukie was a grown woman and he wasn't responsible for her and if she chose to walk away from him and his protection, she had the right. But his emotions overwhelmed his reason; he loved her, he finally admitted to himself and felt responsible for her. So Adam spent the afternoon going through the papers in the desk, deciding what was to be thrown out and what was to be kept and treasured. It seemed that there were copies of many contracts that his grandfather had signed and they told tales of the many places Captain Abel Stoddard had traveled.

It was when Sukie came downstairs after straightening the bedroom and stated that she was going to fix dinner, that Adam remembered Ian Clancy and The Harbor House.

"You don't need to fix anything, Sukie. I'm meeting, well, we're meeting an old friend of my mother's for dinner at 7:00—that's in four hours." She said nothing. "You should dress nicely. I'll help you choose something if you'd like."

Sukie sighed. "No, I know what to wear. I saw a dress that will do. It's of deep-blue velvet."

"That should do. We'll be leaving in about 3 hours."

"Yes. I'll be ready." She started to leave and then turned back to him. The room was almost as it had been, al the items put in their proper places. "Adam." Sukie waited.

"Yes? What?" He looked up at her.

"I apologize for…for the trouble I've caused you—going into the water yesterday and then tossing items about this morning."

"It actually isn't that bad. I wanted to go through my mother's and grandfather's things anyway and this gave me the reason to do it now."

"Your family lived here?"

"Well, my mother and grandfather lived in this house and this is where my father met my mother and stayed after they married. He was a mariner then, my father, just like my grandfather but I think he's more a man of the land. Anyway, they married here and slept in that bed you sleep in. I never knew my mother except through a picture my father had and the stories he told me. The man we're meeting for dinner, Ian Clancy, he was an old friend of my mother's—he claims to be and I see no reason for him to lie."

"Did your mother leave? Did she run away, run back to a life she knew?"

"No. She died shortly after my birth."

"She died for you."

"I wouldn't quite put it that way but she, in a manner, exchanged her life for mine. I suppose, my mother sacrificed her life to have me. I think all women take that chance when they choose to bring life into the world. It hardly seems fair, does it? The risk is all a woman's."

Sukie sat down on the edge of a chair near Adam. "You love your family." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. I do."

"As your mother did for you, would you die for them?"

"Well, I've come close to it before so I suppose the answer is yes."

"Would you die for me?"

Adam paused. He wondered if Sukie was playing some young girl's game the way one might ask a young crush if he would die for her, die for love as in a romantic novel. He decided to answer her with the truth. "Yes, Sukie, I would."

She sighed and sat up straighter. "Tell me about your family, Adam, those you love and to whom you long to return. Tell me of them and your life."

Adam turned in the chair to face her and began to tell Sukie of those he loved and had left behind at the Ponderosa. She listened quietly and intently to all he had to say and Adam, for the first time, felt a true connection to Sukie and sensed stirrings of gentle emotion in her dark eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Adam admired Sukie as they sat at the table in The Harbor House waiting for Ian Clancy. She looked beautiful in the velvet dress. She was wearing a doubled string of pearls that was found in a box tucked in one of the drawers of the highboy, obviously owned by Adam's mother. The skin of the round, smooth pearls were as pure and clean as Sukie and Adam thought how perfect the string looked on her. That strand, besides her beauty, was the only adornment she wore. Her black hair was loosely piled on her head, the curls like the waves of the ocean. Adam had ordered a carafe of rosé while they waited, and Sukie would occasionally take a sip from her glass but neither spoke; Sukie appeared lost in thought.

Adam pulled out his pocket watch again to check the time. It was almost half past and Adam now doubted that Ian Clancy even remembered their appointment. He was just about to motion for the waiter and order for the two of them when he saw Ian Clancy enter the restaurant and speak to the head waiter at the door and ignoring the offered escort, make his way to Adam. Adam stood smiling and offered his hand which Ian took. Then Ian Clancy glanced at Sukie and stopped as if rooted to the spot, staring at her.

Adam quickly glanced at Sukie and then back to Clancy. Sukie looked calm as if there was nothing unusual about stopping a man in his tracks.

"Mr. Clancy," Adam said. "Mr. Clancy!" Ian Clancy suddenly roused himself and took a deep breath. "Won't you sit?" Adam offered and he did. Adam then introduced Sukie.

"Sukie," Clancy said. "What is your last name, my dear?"

Sukie looked at Adam for help.

"It's a long story," Adam said, "and right now, well…would you like some wine?"

"Yes, please. Thank you. A glass of wine will be perfect." Clancy still stared at Sukie.

"Is there something wrong?" Adam asked. It seemed to Adam that Clancy might have recognized Sukie and might, Adam feared, she would be returned to her family, whoever they were. Adam didn't want to lose her but the other fear he held in his heart was that those who would claim her would be the very one's from whom she had run. What might they do when they had her in their clutches again?

"What?" Clancy appeared surprised to hear Adam's voice.

"You keep staring at the young lady, at Sukie. Is there something wrong? Do you…"

"No, no…it's the dress. It was one of Lizzie's ball gowns. It's a bit as if she's still here—or more—as strange as it is-as if her mother's here sitting in that dress. It's the dress and the eyes—large and dark and with a touch of sadness. Those eyes aren't common…"

Adam quickly changed the subject to the menu and the dinner lasted only an hour and a half. Clancy talked a bit more about Elizabeth, Adam's mother, revealing some incidents that made Adam smile and wish even more that he had known her. Clancy also told Adam about his grandmother. "Her name was Vanora which she told me meant 'white wave of the sea.' She was a beauty, actually more beautiful than Elizabeth and as I told you, your mother was a great beauty as well." He looked again at Sukie. "Almost as beautiful as Miss Sukie here." He waited for a response but the only one was that Sukie dropped her eyes. "Why someone as joyful as your grandmother ever married such a stolid, unpleasant man as your grandfather, I'll never understand. She would encourage Lizzie and me to laugh and find joy in everything and when we were young, she would take us down to the beach and we would throw bread to the gulls. They would catch the chunks in the air. But she warned us not to do so often or they would learn to follow us and try to grab the bread from our very hands. She also showed us how to collect clams by digging our toes into the wet sand to feel for them. We would dig the out with little shovels and toss them in a bucket. She would boil them in salted water along with corn on the cob and then your mother and I would eat until we had belly aches."

"My grandmother sounds like a wonderful woman. I'm sorry I never knew her either."

"She was," Clancy said wistfully. "I was grieved when she passed."

"I had plans to visit their graves—my grandparents'," Adam said, "and my mother's but haven't yet had the time."

"You won't find your grandmother's grave."

"Why not? Is it unmarked?"

"No. It just isn't there. From what Lizzie told me, one morning she was wakened by her father and sent to a neighbor's house a few doors down. We were thirteen—I remember that year-and I went to the house to take a cake my mother had baked and your grandfather was all alone, almost mad with grief. I had let myself in because my mother had told me to leave it if no one was home but the Captain was still there. I walked in and he turned on me he was like a beast—his eyes were red from crying and it was the only time I saw him dressed slovenly. He yelled at me to get out, to leave. I told him I had heard of his wife's death and gave my and my parents' condolences. He screamed at me again to leave and raised both his fists as if to strike me down but he stopped himself and instead, beat his chest and then collapsed on the rug, sobbing and calling her name, bemoaning her loss. After that, he wouldn't allow me in the house again and forbade Lizzie to see me. But she still did—sneaking away when he was home an having me in when he was gone.

"Lizzie often asked him about her mother's grave, where her mother was buried and all he would say is, 'at sea; she is buried at sea'."

"At sea?"

"Well, I overheard my mother tell my father that she believed that your grandmother left the Captain—ran out on him as she couldn't bear him anymore. I don't know if that was true but I never told Lizzie the gossip although she may have heard it—I don't know; it would have saddened her even more than she was. Then Lizzie took over the household duties—she and a woman they hired to come in for a few hours every day until Lizzie's schooling was over."

It seemed that Clancy was finished then, that he had no more to say. He sighed and then asked Adam how he had found Sukie.

Adam thought the wording was odd because it was actually correct—he had found her, discovered her in the night. He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Sukie…she needed a place to stay so I offered the house—my mother's room. We're waiting for a family member…." Adam's voice dropped off; the story sounded ridiculous.

Ian gave all his attention to Sukie. "Do you have an affinity for the sea, Sukie? Does the ocean run in your blood?" Ian Clancy leaned forward. "Do you long to return but can't? Do you, Sukie?"

It seemed to Adam as if Clancy was almost taunting Sukie and he was angered. Were Clancy not an old man, Adam would've snatched him up by his shirt front and forced him to apologize for his tone of voice and his prying questions. But Clancy was an old man and a past friend of his mother's. So instead, Adam stood and pushed back his chair. "It was nice of you to join us, Mr. Clancy, but it's late and Sukie and I are both tired. Do you require an escort home? You live close to us, don't you?"

Ian Clancy sat back. He noted that Adam Cartwright had used "us" meaning himself and Sukie. "Yes. Next to the creamery but I will be fine. I do believe that I'll have another cup of coffee though before I drag my old bones out into the cold again." He remained seated while Adam took Sukie's arm and helped her up. "Good night to both of you," he said, nodding and Adam gave a curt response and hurried Sukie out, only stopping to help her with her hooded cape.

They walked silently through the streets, Adam almost pulling Sukie along as one would a recalcitrant child and he didn't even notice the others passing. It seemed as if the only two people under the waning moon were he and Sukie. And as happened before, Ian Clancy's words echoed through his mind. "Do you have an affinity for the sea, Sukie? Does the ocean run in your blood? Do you long to return but can't? Do you, Sukie?" Adam shivered but it wasn't from the cold.


	10. Chapter 10

Adam had seen Sukie to bed and then told her not to leave the room. "I have to go out, Sukie. Please stay here. I won't be long." She had promised that she wouldn't leave but he still locked the bedroom door as well as the back and front doors and took the keys with him. As he strode down the street, Pulling his jacket collar up about his ears, he told himself that he wasn't keeping Sukie locked in but keeping any evil out yet he knew that it was the fear that she would leave, that he would arrive back to an empty house and not have any knowledge of what had become of Sukie and that he couldn't bear. Adam knew himself too well and if Sukie vanished, he would wander the shore calling to her, looking for her and then search the city of Boston until he found her or until he had exhausted all possible measures and accepted the unacceptable.

Ian Clancy's small house wasn't difficult to find; it was beside the creamery, Sally's Sweet Shop. Adam looked at the sign: "Ice Cream, Delectable Treats, Saltwater Taffy" and imagined his mother and Ian Clancy as children clutching their nickels in their small fists to buy a scoop of ice cream or a handful of chewy taffy.

Adam knocked roundly on Clancy's front door and waited. There were still lights on in the front room so Adam waited and then pounded again. There was a door knocker but Adam needed to use his fist; better the door receive his rage than the old man.

The door was slowly opened and Ian Clancy stood in front of him wearing a robe.

"Hello, Adam. Won't you come in?" Clancy stepped aside and Adam entered.

"You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I'm not. Sit, sit, please." Clancy went back to his chair beside the fireplace and Adam took the one on the other side. The room was small, smaller than the one in the Stoddard house and although it bore a few touches of a woman, it was obvious that they were old, more than likely introduced by Ian's deceased mother. "May I offer you something? Some sherry perhaps."

"No. I'll come right to it-how you know about Sukie? Why you asked her about the sea? You saw us on the beach, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The other day—when Sukie went into the water, when she tried to swim out and I had to drag her back—you saw us, didn't you?" Adam realized he was furious, furious at being spied on, at Clancy having seen Sukie naked and struggling in his arms as he had forced her out of the water and back to the house.

"No, I didn't see you or Miss Sukie. I knew nothing of it until now but I'm not surprised. The sealskin…you locked it away didn't you?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything. Why are so fixated on the sealskin? I locked it way only because I promised you as it seemed harmless enough to indulge your eccentricity." Adam shifted to the edge of the chair." Do you recognize Sukie from anywhere? She claims no family but there has to be someone, somewhere…is she from Boston or another town?" Adam waited as patiently as he could but he wanted to beat the answer out of Clancy who sat sipping a small glass of sherry.

"I had mentioned the legend of the Roane to you, the faery women, the seal-fairies, the selkies..."

"What does that nonsense have to do with Sukie?" Adam stopped, his mouth open. The word selkie—so much like Sukie. Had he misunderstood her? Had she said she was a "selkie"? No, that was insane.

"There is a legend, an old legend about the Roane, about the magical breed of seals who, when they shed their skin, can walk among the humans as a beautiful woman. If a person finds her shed skin, keeps it, hides it away so she can never find it, the faery woman is his as his wife and a wonderful wife she becomes." Ian Clancy waited.

Adam snorted in derision. "Nonsense. Children's tales—or addled, old men's tales."

Clancy smiled and chuckled. "Perhaps, perhaps. There is a way you can find out, though."

Adam's heart pounded in his chest. "I suppose I should give Sukie the sealskin and then see if she changes into a seal and takes off into the water. She'd think I'd lost my mind."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But if you want her, want to keep Sukie with you always as your wife, your lover and the mother of your children, burn the sealskin or cut it to pieces so it will no longer fit. If it's altered in any way, she won't be able to return and you'll have the wife every man desires. I saw the two of you together, I saw how you feel about her."

Adam wanted to respond—_What about Sukie? Could she be happy being enslaved to a man not of her choice? I could never-would never do such a thing. Love can't be forced, it is a choice, it's given, not taken_. But Adam said no more and stood up. "Good night, Mr. Clancy." He left Ian Clancy sitting by his fire. Looking into the flames.

Adam started home and after a few steps, broke into a run. The streets were empty and all he could think of was that Sukie had managed to get and tossed his grandfather's bedroom, found the key and with it, unlocked the chest and found the fur, her skin, and left him. He would have lost her forever and a sob escaped him. But he also told himself it was all nonsense. He was losing his mind, losing any hold on reality he had. There were no such things as selkies or faery women or anything else. Superstition, legends and fairy tales had no place in his world. The world he knew worked by physical law and the only beings in the oceans were fish and sea mammals. Even the biblical Leviathan was now in those enlightened times known to be the Great Blue Whale. And yet, no matter how much Adam tried to talk himself into a state of rationality and logic, the fear was deep in the pit of his stomach.

Adam paused in front of the blue door to compose and settle himself. "Don't be a goddamn fool," he told himself. He unlocked the door and all was quiet. Adam took another deep breath and slowly let it out. He took the stairs and all was still and quiet. He knocked lightly on Sukie's door, heard her voice ask "Adam?" and then he unlocked it and let himself in.

"I've come to put more wood on the fire." He bent down and placed more wood on the already burning logs. He stood and watched the dry wood catch and then turned to Sukie. She was sitting up in bed, watching him closely.

"You're upset," was all she said.

"No, no, I'm not." Adam moved to the bed and sat beside her. He put out his arms and she fell into them. Adam stroked her soft hair, now unbound and falling about her shoulders. "Sukie, where did you come from? Did you come from the sea?"

She pulled away and he looked into her dark eyes—so liquid and luminous-otherworldly. "Yes."

His breathing became rough. "You can't have. It's impossible."

"I am of those that have lived for hundreds of years, those who live in the water and spend part of the time on land watching people, learning their ways but some are caught. You have caught me and therefore, I am yours, Adam."

Adam dropped his head with resignation. "Come with me, Sukie." He stood and reached out for her hand. She slipped it trustingly into his. Once they were in the other bedroom, Adam lit the lamp. The room was cold. He turned to look at her. "I love you, Sukie. I've known you only briefly but you have my heart—completely. And because I love you, I must…I want you to be happy."

"Happy is an odd word. There are different ways to be happy—various feeling of happiness. I am happy when the sun is shining on my skin. I am happy in your arms in the dark, of the warmth you show me, the pleasure you give me. I am happy when I see the ocean and feel the salt on my skin and the smell fills my lungs." She reached up and touched Adam's cheek and he moved his face to capture more of her caress as he pressed her hand against his face. Sukie smiled gently. "And I am happy when I see your face—it's so kind—unlike other men. They have cruel eyes but not you. You have eyes that shine with goodness. We will have many children with dark eyes and black hair—children who yearn for the sea as I do but who have learned to live on land as you have. We have a certain kinship, Adam, you and I, and I would rather be pressed to live as your wife than any other man's."

Adam walked over to the highboy and felt for the key. He brought it back and after unbuckling the two leather straps, he unlocked the sea chest and lifted the heavy lid.

"Oh!" Sukie gasped. She grabbed the skin and pulled it to her, then turned to Adam. "You have given me my life again." She smiled and laughed with delight. "Oh, thank you, Adam." She rushed from the room, almost dragging the heavy pelt.

Adam followed her down the stairs and she dropped the pelt at the back door as she struggled to open it.

"Wait," Adam said and he pulled out the key and unlocked it. He picked up the skin and Sukie looked at him with fear. "I'll carry it for you," he said opening the door, amazed again at its seductive softness.

Sukie practically flew across the yard and down the rocky decline to the shore. Adam followed her path and then stood a few feet from her as Sukie unbuttoned the nightgown and stepped out of it. A gust of wind tossed it across the sand and dropped it into the ocean. Then Sukie looked at Adam and put out her hands.

"Here, Sukie," Adam said, his voice breaking with emotion. None of this made sense to his logical mind but Adam knew only one thing—he was going to lose Sukie forever. Sukie took the pelt from him and began to step into it as he watched.

Sukie paused. She looked at the man who had been her human companion, her mate or as he called it, her lover, for such a short time. He was the man who was giving her back her freedom and then she looked out at the crashing waves. A pod of seals were in the water, watching…waiting. Tears welled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks, as salty as the sea. Then Sukie stepped out of the skin and looked to Adam, picked up the heavy pelt and held it out to him.

Adam was confused. Sukie stood before him under the stars, her beauty shining. "Sukie…I don't understand."

"Take it, Adam" He slowly reached out and took the heavy skin from her. "Hide it, Adam. Lock it away and keep it from me. Burn it if you like. I choose my life…I choose to stay with you."

"Oh, Sukie." Adam dropped the fur and pulled her into his arms. "Oh, my love," he murmured. They dropped onto the pelt where they joined in the presence of all the creatures on land and in the sea. And the seals that bobbed offshore waiting for Sukie's return to them, dove back into the water and left her forever.

~ Finis ~


End file.
